


Leavening

by SomewhereFlying



Series: Cinnamon Dust [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Cooking Lessons, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 05:45:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16486976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomewhereFlying/pseuds/SomewhereFlying
Summary: Goro was far too old to be playing house with anyone, let alone Akira. Still, when he was at Leblanc, it was… easy… to pretend.ShuAke Confidant Week Day 4:Domestic|Home|Trust





	Leavening

* * *

Goro didn’t visit Yon-Germain over the next few weeks. In fact, he didn’t step foot in Shibuya station at all – he didn’t need to. There was somewhere much better for him now.

It was a long bike ride to Yongen-Jaya from the police station, but it was a pleasant one and always well worth the effort, not simply for Sojiro’s coffee and curry, but for Akira’s company, as well. Sometimes Goro ordered a coffee and nothing more, but occasionally he would come in visibly burdened by a difficult day, and Akira would present him with some confection or another: cake, usually, vanilla or strawberry or cinnamon spice, the latter being his favorite - it complemented the coffee perfectly.

Akira never let Goro pay him for those sweets. He claimed that Sojiro was allowing him to expand the menu, and that he needed an unbiased taste-tester, so really, Goro was doing him a favor, but to Goro that sounded like a flimsy excuse.

Still, he never declined the cake.

Today had been one of those days, and as Goro sat at the counter, he neglected his half-finished piece of shortcake in favor of watching Akira pretend to keep busy. Leblanc was a quiet café, and even at its busiest, it was barely half-full, and Goro preferred it that way. Akira seemed to agree, and during the frequent lulls, he would prop his elbows up on the counter beside Goro and pester him about work, or about what he was reading, or just about his life in general.

Goro was surprised that he didn’t find Akira’s pestering unwelcome. Perhaps it was because, unlike so many others, Akira’s interest in him seemed genuine, and when Goro spoke, Akira really listened. It was so endearing that Goro found himself engaging Akira in conversation just as frequently, and even days later, he would remember the things Akira had told him, like that he had transferred to Shujin Academy at the beginning of April – though he didn’t say why – and that he loved cats and coffee, and that while he was adjusting to city life more easily than he’d excepted, the quiet street on which Leblanc resided was the perfect place for him.

They started to develop something Goro might have described as a friendship, though he was terrified to voice that opinion out loud for fear that Akira didn’t see it that way. Perhaps Goro was just another customer to him… it was hard to say. Was it too much to hope that it wasn’t something so simple, though?

Goro turned his fork over in his hand, staring at the crumbs on his plate so intently he didn’t even notice Akira approach.

“Medjed’s deadline is coming up soon,” Akira commented.

Goro blinked, and only then realized he had been zoning out so hard that Akira’s comment only _seemed_ like a complete non-sequitur. If he’d been paying attention, he might have noticed the café’s television running a short news clip on the hacker group – this was no doubt the inspiration for Akira’s comment.

“Ah, indeed,” Goro said. He picked at his cake, taking a small bite. “What do you think? The Phantom Thieves have been quiet on that front so far… I wonder if they’ve been scared into silence.”

“Dunno,” Akira said with a shrug. “I wonder if it’s even real. Might just be a cry for attention from Medjed…”

 _It’s 100% fake_ , Goro desperately wanted to say, just to see the look on Akira’s face. But instead he said, “I wonder if that’s a risk the Thieves are willing to take.”

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

It was a perfectly evasive answer, exactly the kind of thing he had come to expect from Akira when it came to the Phantom Thieves.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Goro said.

“All done?” Akira asked, gesturing to his empty mug.

“Oh… yes. Thank you again for the coffee; it was delightful as always,” Goro said, setting his cup down on its saucer and nudging it towards Akira, who smiled as he picked it up and whisked it away to the sink.

Even after he left Leblanc for the day, Goro found his thoughts returning to Akira, who was still an enigma to Goro even after so many weeks of getting to know him.

Akira, who was so kind, offering him sweets just because he knew they were what Goro liked.

Akira, who wore glasses he didn’t need and who had a talking cat and who was almost certainly a Phantom Thief.

Akira, who Goro should have hated, but… didn’t.

There were days when Goro would arrive at Leblanc and Akira wouldn’t be there, and in fact he wouldn’t arrive until it was practically time for Goro to leave, but there were just as many days that Akira was already behind the counter when Goro stepped through the door. The one thing that almost never seemed to happen was that they would run into each other on their way to the café.

It was a temperate day for September and nice enough out that Goro had eschewed his bike in favor of simply walking to Leblanc. He would have to take the train back home, but it wasn’t the end of the world; ever since he’d stopped visiting Shibuya station every week, he noticed that on the few occasions he did have to visit, his Metaverse delusions were… watered-down, to the point of near-nonexistence. Distance made them fade, it seemed – yet another reason to be grateful to Akira for introducing him to Leblanc.

Speaking of Akira, as Goro turned the corner, he noticed a familiar mop of black hair standing outside a small convenience store, idly perusing the selection of vegetables on display.

“Ah, Kurusu,” Goro said, calling out to him once he was within earshot. Akira stood up straight and turned to look at him, his face brightening in recognition as he did.

“Hey,” he said. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I was about to say the same,” Goro replied, slipping into the easy smile that always seemed to come with speaking to Akira. There was something about him that made Goro want to relax.

Morgana stuck his fuzzy head out of Akira’s messenger bag. “Oh, it’s Akechi again,” he said, and Goro was sure that to anyone but himself and Akira, it sounded like a regular meow.

Goro plastered a good-natured smile on his face and said, “Oh, hello there! I didn’t realize you had a friend with you, Kurusu-kun.”

“Yeah,” Akira said, gently pushing Morgana on the head and ushering him back into the messenger bag. “He likes to pretend he’s part of the conversation.”

“Hey! Who’s pretending?” Morgana protested, though he did retreat back into the bag.

“Ha ha, I can see that,” Goro said. It was astonishing how quickly he’d come to accept that Morgana could talk.

“Are you heading to Leblanc?” Akira asked.

“Oh… yes. Can I assume the same for you?”

Akira nodded, and without even asking, Goro fell into step beside him, and they walked to the café together.

“I’m glad you’ve kept coming to Leblanc,” Akira told him. “Most of our customers are just locals – older folks, you know… it’s nice to talk to someone my age for a change.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Goro said. “Your food is delicious. I wish I could eat it every day.”

“I could give you some of my recipes,” Akira said. “Not for Boss’s curry… he’d kill me. But if there’s something else you’d like?”

“Oh, I… thank you, Kurusu, but that’s all right,” Goro said.

“It’s really no problem,” Akira said. “I was mostly joking about Boss. Mostly.”

“It’s not that, it’s… hmm.”

Goro had come to a crossroads. If it were anyone but Akira, he would have deflected with something trite, like “oh, but the food tastes so much better coming from you and Boss, Kurusu-kun - that’s what makes it special.” He felt like he owed it to Akira to be a little more honest than that… but now that he was about to say it, Goro realized how embarrassing it was to admit _I can’t fucking cook_.

“Well, I’m actually not much of a cook, I have to admit,” he settled on saying, laughing it off like a simple, self-depreciating joke.

Akira looked interested. He didn’t laugh. “Oh yeah?” he asked.

“Indeed. I, ah… well, my parents – I told you before I was in and out of foster homes for much of my childhood. It’s just not a skill I was able to pick up,” Goro said. He ducked his head and stared at the sidewalk. “Many parents are unwilling to let their foster children into the kitchen, it would seem…”

“Well,” Akira said after a moment, “it’s never too late to learn how. It’s not too tough. I could help you, if you wanted?”

“I couldn’t put you out like that… it’s fine, really,” Goro said quickly.

Akira hummed, but he didn’t press the issue any further. Goro nearly forgot the conversation had even happened until it was close to closing time.

“Can you stay a little late tonight, Akechi?” Akira asked him.

Goro had just been packing up his things, but he could stay, easily. It wasn’t as though he had anywhere else to be. “Sure, if you’d like. Is something the matter?” he asked.

Akira presser one finger against his lips and winked. “It’s a secret,” he said.

So Goro tapped idly on his phone while Akira closed the cafe, and he didn’t say a word, not even when Akira went to lock the front door, nor when he turned out most of the lights - all except the ones in the kitchen.

Once he had wound his way back behind the counter, the first thing he asked Goro was, “You can cook rice, right?”

“Of – of course,” Goro muttered, flustering. He wasn’t so helpless…

“Good,” Akira said, and he motioned for Goro to come join him in the back, where he was already pulling out a cutting board. Suddenly, it all clicked.

“Kurusu, I told you, you really don’t need to do this…”

“Indulge me for a bit, would you?” Akira asked.

Goro bit his lip. It wasn’t as though he didn’t eat; there was an impressive variety of convenience meals on the market now. Really, this was nothing more than excuse to spend an evening with Akira… but that in itself wasn’t a terrible reason to stay.

“Fine,” he said, dragging himself from his seat and coming around to the other side of the bar. It felt eerie back here, like he was encroaching on some place forbidden to him as a customer. “What did you have in mind?”  
  
“I thought we’d try stir frying some vegetables,” Akira said.

“O-oh,” Goro said. “That seems…”

“It’s simple, I know,” Akira conceded. “But it’s a good place to start.” He pulled out a small rice cooker. “Hey, get this started for me, okay? There’s rice in the cabinet underneath it,” he said, gesturing below the countertop. Without waiting for a reply, he stepped away, over to Leblanc’s refrigerator and pulled out a plethora of veggies – snow peas, bean sprouts, carrots, a whole head of cabbage, an onion – and set them on the counter, before he started to rummage around in another drawer.

Goro found the rice and prepared it in the cooker, which wasn’t terribly different from the one he himself owned.

“Okay,” Akira said, “the first thing we need to do is prep the vegetables.” He motioned for Goro to come closer, and, tentatively, Goro did. Akira picked up a wide, flat knife and cut the cabbage in half. “We want everything to be about the same size, so I’ll show you how big it should be, and you can cut it, all right?”

“Um. Right,” Goro said, watching Akira cut a hunk of cabbage into a piece about three fingers wide. Then he passed the knife off to Goro. The cabbage didn’t offer much resistance, and with Akira’s piece as a guide, he was easily able to chop it up into mostly-uniform chunks. They repeated the process with the carrots – cut into long, flat sticks – and the onion, which Goro diced up a little more roughly than Akira probably would have.

While Goro prepped their food, Akira retrieved a large sauté pan from some hidden depth and had set it over Leblanc’s stovetop, letting it heat up while they worked.

“We’ll add the onions and garlic first,” Akira said, gesturing towards the items. “Once they’re turning pale, we can add the carrots.” He glanced at Goro, and added, “They’ll take the longest to cook, so we need to add them first.”

“Ah. That makes sense,” Goro said.

It was strange. Akira could easily have talked down to him. Goro was _older_ than he was, so to have Akira instruct him in something so simple should have been embarrassing… but Akira was a good teacher, and he seemed to be having fun. Goro realized, belatedly, that he was enjoying himself, too.

Stir-frying was a quick way to cook - they were done before Goro knew it, before he even had time to be nervous about cooking it wrong or burning something. When the rice was done, Akira spooned out two bowls and produced some kind of sauce from the fridge.

“I have to admit, I’m impressed with your instruction,” Goro said as they sat down at the counter to eat. “You knew all of that off the top of your head.”

“It’s one of my staple dishes,” Akira said. He shrugged and stabbed a carrot with his chopstick. “You might not have been allowed in the kitchen when you were a kid, but my parents were never home, so I had to learn how to cook if I wanted to eat. You pick up on these things. Anyway… what do you think? How is it?” he asked.

Goro gathered up a large bite of food and chewed thoughtfully for a long moment.

“It’s… good,” he admitted.

“You don’t sound very convinced of that,” Akira said.

“It’s just… you were guiding me every step of the way, so of course it turned out well.”

“You’re still learning,” Akira said. “It’s fine. You can’t expect to jump into something brand new alone and do it perfectly on your first try.”

Goro carefully gathered up a little bundle of rice, rolling it around his bowl with his chopsticks.

“…that is what’s expected of me,” he said.

Akira shut his mouth, and Goro felt a little bad. He didn’t mean it as something to bring down the mood - it was just the truth.

“…Next time you’re here, ask Boss to tell you about the first time I tried making curry on my own,” Akira said. “He _loves_ telling that story.”

“Is that so? I’ll have to hear that one sometime, then,” Goro said, and he found himself smiling.

Akira sent him home with the leftovers, and Goro brought them to work the next day for lunch. Sae-san commented on them, surprised and pleased he was eating something real for once.

Goro didn't exactly know if that was a good thing or not.

The cooking lessons became another routine of theirs. It wasn’t every day, but with some regularity, Akira would off-handedly mention that he’d like to try something, and Goro would stay late and enjoy the fruits of their labor – there were even leftovers, sometimes. Working with Akira was easy, effortless, and though it was hard for Goro to shed his desire for perfection, over time he found himself caring less and less if things went a little awry. If the meat was a little burned, or if his knife cuts were sloppy, or if he over-seasoned a sauce… it didn’t really matter. It still tasted delicious.

It was almost nice enough to distract him from the task that loomed ahead of him.

Goro was sitting in Leblanc - and rather enjoying himself, for once - when an all too familiar voice broke him from his pleasant thoughts. That damn TV… though it wasn’t Boss’s fault Shido was all over the news lately. The closer it drew to October, the more frequently he appeared. What was he even talking about today? It was so easy for Goro to tune out his words until they became worthless noise, but it seemed as though he was denouncing the Phantom Thieves and the public that adored them. All according to plan – and Shido _did_ have a plan.

It was to use the Thieves’ hubris against them. Their downfall would be that website – the Phan-site – which was so very easy to manipulate to the point that they had all but chosen the Thieves next target for them. It wasn’t even suspicious; Okumura was right in line with the Phantom Thieves’ previous targets, so there was no reason for them to suspect foul play regarding the popularity poll. Furthermore, Okumura’s daughter attended Shujin, so the likelihood that they would run into her – or that one of the Thieves already knew her – was quite high. With that sort of personal connection, there was no way they wouldn’t attempt to change his heart.

Then, after they had done all the work beating Okumura’s shadow down, Goro would slip in unnoticed and take out him out. His attempted public confession would coincide with his mental shut-down, and the Thieves’ popularity would tank. It would be the perfect time for Goro to come to their aid… and ultimately lead them to their downfall.

The plan must have been Shido’s own design – it was far too cruel to have come from anyone else, and besides, the only person it truly served was Shido himself. Oh, he had pitched it as though it would help Goro, too, but Shido didn’t have all the facts. He didn’t know who the Thieves were.

But Goro did.

After they first began artificially inflating the votes on the Phan-site to fall in Okumura’s favor, Shido had instructed Goro to stake out Okumura’s palace and ensure the Thieves took the bait. Discovering his keywords had been child’s play, and the sprawling spaceport had dozens of hiding spots for stowaways, so it wasn’t hard to infiltrate. Goro spent several long and very boring afternoons waiting for the Thieves to arrive before they finally did.

The first voice Goro recognized was that of Akira’s damn cat. He was a bit more cartoonish in the Metaverse than in reality, but otherwise he was almost completely undisguised. Likewise, Sakamoto and Takamaki were easy to spot – their hair gave them away. And all this meant that the dark-hair thief leading the way was… well, it had to be Akira.

And there was another thing.

Goro followed the Thieves a little longer than strictly necessary – he knew they were infiltrating the palace now, so really, his job was done – but perverse curiosity kept him going. He wanted to see that creature again, the one he had seen in the underground mall, the one with blue fire that protected Akira and acknowledged Goro’s presence.

Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long. No sooner had the Thieves initiated combat than the creature was summoned – serving Akira, of course. This close, his persona – Arsene, Goro heard Akira call him – was even more incredible than Goro remembered: he towered above Akira, sharply dressed like a true gentleman thief, with enormous wings that stretched out to impossible heights. He commanded the blue flames as if he were conducting an orchestra, with grace and precision; the battle was over in seconds.

Now Goro sat not three feet from Akira, the leader of the Phantom Thieves, his next target… and his friend. His _only_ friend if Goro was being honest with himself. And while it had been so, so easy to tell himself he would simply follow through on his plan as originally envisioned, the more he thought about using Akira as a stepping stone to complete his revenge on Shido, the worst it made him feel, to the point of nausea. But what else could he do, at this point…?

“Hey, Goro?”

Goro startled from his thoughts to find Akira staring at him from across the counter.

“Sorry,” he said. “You weren’t responding to Akechi, so I thought…”

“No, no, it’s… it’s fine,” Goro said. Damn, had he been zoning out again? He wanted to kick himself. “I’m so sorry… I really don’t know what came over me just now.”

His eyes flicked, unwittingly, back to the television, where Shido was just finishing his speech to rapturous applause. Akira followed his line of sight.

“Hey,” he said, suddenly on the customer side of the bar, standing in between Goro and the TV. “Would you come upstairs with me for a minute?”

Upstairs… Leblanc’s attic. Goro knew that was serving as Akira’s makeshift bedroom. The implications there were… but if he stayed downstairs, he might have to listen to Shido talk some more. Goro shot a questioning look at Sojiro, who shrugged and gestured to the café at large. Aside from Goro, the only other customer was a severe-looking young woman who was either a doctor with very strange fashion sense, or a cosplayer - he wasn’t really sure. All the same, Boss’s message was clear: “I don’t need his help right now. You can go.”

“Very well,” Goro said, and he got to his feet. He followed Akira upstairs, his anticipation growing with each step. What kind of room could belong to the leader of the Phantom Thieves…?

When they reached the attic, Goro took a moment to really survey the room. It was… the first word that came to mind was “crowded”. On one wall, there was a storage shelf full of things that couldn’t have possibly belonged to Akira – this _was_ an attic, after all. But beside that was a small table with an ancient game system and an even older TV, a tattered red couch, and a desk that seemed in serviceable condition… though whatever Akira had been using it for, Goro was certain it wasn’t homework… and then there was his bed, if you could call it that: a thin futon mattress resting atop several concrete blocks. It was a sorry looking thing, and Goro felt a surged of sympathy for Akira’s back.

But the thing that stood out the most in Akira’s room was the bookshelf on the right-hand wall. These were items that must have belonged to Akira: an ornate ramen bowl, a decorative Hamaya, a throw pillow decorated with… sushi? And a model of a swan boat? Only Akira could have amassed such an eclectic collection.

It was cluttered, and it was dusty, and Goro could definitely feel a cold draft creeping in from somewhere. It was, by all accounts, a pretty sorry excuse for a living space, and yet… it felt so warm up here. Inviting and open – it felt lived-in. It felt nice.

“So I was gonna give you this later tonight, but…” Akira trailed off as he rummaged through a box on the bottom of one of his bookshelves. Moments later he righted himself and turned to face Goro again, and now he held something in his hands. “Here,” he said, extending the item. “I got this for you.”

Goro took the item – it was cloth, he realized – and carefully unfolded it, revealing its true form. It was an apron, mostly cream-colored with a cocoa brown trim, and at the bottom right corner, a picture of a golden-brown kitten that had a pat of butter melting on its head, sitting on top of a plate.

“I was thinking that, y’know, after… last time…”

– Last time being when they’d attempted to pan-fry some strips of steak and ended up splattering Goro’s wool coat with grease, nearly ruining it –

“…that you might want something to protect your clothes.”

Goro… didn’t know what to make of this. It was cute, though not obnoxiously so – he had to give Akira credit there – so it was unlikely it was a gag gift; he could have picked something so much worse. His explanation, too, made it seem as though this gift was bought with genuine care.

“Kurusu, this is… ridiculous,” Goro said, though he couldn’t hide the smile on his face.

“What, you don’t like it?” Akira asked. “I liked it so much I got myself one, too.” At this, he revealed a matching apron: white and black instead of cream and brown, and featuring a black cat with a little green leaf sticking out of its head. It was pawing at some blackberries.

This… would be the time to say thank you, Goro realized. It was a nice gift, thoughtful, if a little silly. It would only be appropriate to show his appreciation.

Instead, what Goro blurted out was: “Can we bake a cake?”

Akira blinked. “Huh?”

“I – I’d like to learn how to bake a cake,” Goro clarified. “I rather enjoyed the one you made for me the first time I visited Leblanc… It’s something I’d like to replicate for myself.”

“Oh yeah?” Akira asked, and his smile looked almost giddy. Goro supposed he couldn’t fault him for that; this was the first time Goro had shown an active interest in Akira’s cooking lessons. “Okay. Yeah, let’s do it. It’s just… hmm. Would you mind if we made it at your apartment?”

Goro froze.

“What, ah… what’s wrong with Leblanc’s kitchen?” he asked.

“Nothing really,” Akira said. “I’d just like to see what kind of a set-up you’ve got. I can give you more precise help that way, too.”

While Goro knew logically that Leblanc was Akira’s home, it was also a café – a public place. It implied a certain distance – a distance that wouldn’t be there in Goro’s apartment, which was a home and nothing else.

Akira noticed his hesitation and quickly added, “It’s okay if you don’t want to –“

“No,” Goro said, cutting him off, “my place is fine. When, um… when can you meet me?”

 

* * *

 

They decided on Sunday, October the 3rd, and when that afternoon rolled around, Goro sat in what served as his living room and waited. He was starting to feel anxious again, though this was… an unfamiliar anxiety to him. He didn’t feel compelled to hurt himself to drive this feeling away.

He was just afraid. Afraid Akira wouldn’t show, or afraid of what he would say if he did show. Compared to Akira’s attic, Goro’s tiny apartment was nicer, sure, but it was also empty. He had nothing to adorn the walls, no plants to brighten the place – he barely had any furniture. This was just the place where he lived, like a robot returning to its docking port in order to recharge. Goro had no attachment to this place. Why would he? It wasn’t even his.

He nearly leapt out of his skin when the doorbell finally rang – he’d forgotten what it sounded like. He scrambled to his feet and flew to the door, pausing briefly to peer out the peephole, which revealed to him Akira, who was mostly hidden behind the large box he carried in his arms.

“Akira!” Goro said as he opened the door. “Do you need help?”

“Actually,” Akira said, taking a careful step inside, “If, uh, you wanna take this so I can take my shoes off…”

“Of course,” Goro said, taking the box from Akira. It was heavier than it looked but nothing Goro couldn’t handle; he brought it inside and set it down on the kitchen counter while Akira removed his shoes.

“What is all this, Akira?” Goro asked.

“Baking supplies,” Akira said. “A baking pan and some measuring cups, plus ingredients… sorry. I wasn’t sure what you’d have, so I just brought everything…”

“No, that was probably for the best…” Goro said, and as he opened the box, the first thing he found was Akira’s apron. “And the appropriate uniform, I see.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Akira said. “Well, I thought you’d be more likely to wear yours if I wore mine, so…”

“Yes… of course,” Goro said. “Well, if that’s what you'd like, then let me go retrieve mine, as well.”

It was hanging in his bedroom. He had left his closet door open just to look at it. He’d tried it on the other day, too, and it fit him perfectly; even the colors seemed to complement his complexion. It looked _good_ on him, and when he returned to the kitchen, Akira had put his apron on, and damn if it didn’t look good on _him_ , too.

Goro felt warm, and he wasn’t sure it was from the pre-heated oven.

When he stepped back into the kitchen, Akira paused in his task of setting out all the ingredients out in a neat row to look Goro over, smiling brightly when he saw him in the apron. Goro felt a flutter of pride.

“Ready to get started?” Akira asked.

“Yes,” Goro said, swallowing down the odd lump in his throat. “Let’s begin.”

Baking was more precise than cooking had been, Goro learned. The measurements needed to be very exact, and Akira instructed him on how to sift out the flour first before measuring, to make sure it didn’t get compacted, and on how to mix all the wet ingredients and dry ingredients separately before combining, to make sure it wouldn’t become over-mixed.

All throughout, Akira was much more tactile than he usually was when they were at Leblanc. It wasn’t anything excessive: touching his hand while he measured (to make sure the flour was even, probably), bumping against his shoulder while he was mixing (to verify his technique, no doubt), carefully brushing a strand of Goro’s hair from his face (to ensure it wouldn’t get caught in the batter)…

 _It has to be like this,_ Goro rationalized. _Otherwise I might make a mistake._

Finally, it was time to pour the batter into the pan and set it in the oven. Goro shut the oven door with a definitive sigh, moving immediately to sit down at the counter. That had been unexpectedly draining, and he was even more anxious about the outcome than usual.

Akira, who was holding the now-empty mixing bowl, looked at him and asked, “You wanna lick the spoon?”

“That’s okay,” Goro said. Akira frowned and leaned across the counter, waving the batter-covered spoon in his face.

“Lick the spoon, Goro,” he commanded.

“All right, all right; if you insist,” Goro said, laughing and accepting the spoon, which had a thin coating of sticky batter clinging to it. It was sweet and pleasantly grainy, and after his first tentative lick, Goro readily cleaned the spoon. “It’s delicious… I can’t wait until it’s finished,” he said.

Akira didn’t reply; he was too busy staring at Goro.

“Akira? Is something wrong?”

“You’ve got something…” Akira reached his hand out, and Goro flinched, but Akira just swiped his thumb along Goro’s cheek. He came away with a little smudge of batter. “There.”

“O-oh… um. Thank you, Akira-kun...” Goro murmured. How embarrassing he’d gotten so carried away that batter ended up on his cheek…

But Akira just smiled and licked the batter off his thumb. “Don’t mention it,” he said.

Goro didn’t think he would ever mention that to anyone. He wanted to keep this memory to himself.

“Do you want to make some tea while we wait for the cake to finish?” Akira suggested, and Goro leapt at the chance for a distraction.

“Certainly. You can go sit down; let me take care of it…”

Goro pushed past Akira into the kitchen and began preparing the tea, studiously keeping his back turned to his companion. His ears were burning hot and his stomach was flipping – what did he think he was doing here, playing house with Akira? The one he was going to betray and destroy before the year was over? Who was he kidding? He was just making things harder for himself, like he always did. As if his life wasn’t hard enough already.

The tea was finished, and Goro carefully poured two mugs, bringing one to Akira and setting one on the counter for himself.

“Thanks,” Akira said. He brought his cup to his lips, but before he took a sip, he hesitated, his eyes flicking over to Goro. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“H-huh? Do I look upset?” Goro asked.

“Not really. But when you were getting the tea ready, you just seemed…” Akira shrugged. “Like you had something on your mind. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Oh,” Goro said. He was so transparent; Akira could see right through him. “Well, it’s nothing. Just thinking about, ah… work.”

Akira raised an eyebrow as if to say, “the offer still stands.”

“I’m certain it wouldn’t make sense to you…” Goro continued.

“I know, but sometimes it can help to just talk it out, right?”

Goro took a deep breath. The sweet scent of cake baking began to waft through the air. He didn’t understand.

What was it about Akira that made Goro want to confess all his secrets?

“Say you had something you had been working towards for years. It was something you devoted all your time and effort to… it was the single thought that occupied your mind,” Goro began. “It may not be the noblest goal, but it is… personal, and important to you. If you learned later on that to accomplish this goal would mean to irreparably harm someone else, someone important to you… what would you do?”

He glanced at Akira. “Would you stop everything you had worked for? Years of works would have gone to waste. And it may be impossible to stop now that you’ve come so far. What would you do, if you were in a situation like that?”

All while he spoke, Akira had listened quietly, sipping from his tea. When Goro finally trailed off, he set his cup down and asked, “Do… you have something like that, Goro?”

“No!” Goro exclaimed, too quickly. “No, it’s… as I said, this case I’m investigating for work…”

Akira hummed. “Right. Well… I think that nothing is as impossible as you’re making it out to be. Throwing away years of work can hurt, but it doesn’t mean they were wasted. That time would have taught you a lot of things. If you came through all those years, and got so close to achieving what you wanted, and still decided that it was wrong, and abandoned your plan… I think that’s the best possible outcome.”

“Do you think so…?” Goro asked.

“I do,” Akira said. “And… I think you don’t need to try and do it alone. If there’s someone who can help you, you should reach out to them.”

There was a long, long pause, during which Akira fixed Goro with eye contact so intense he thought his entire soul was barred to him; if Arsene hadn’t already told Akira about Goro’s persona, then this would have tipped him off for sure.

“I see,” Goro said. “That’s… an interesting perspective. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind as I continue to investigate.”

And he was sure Akira wasn’t fooled in the slightest, but he let it go, and their conversation turned to lighter topics until, at last, the cake was finished. They could hardly wait for it to cool before cutting into it, and when Goro finally got a taste it was pillowy and sweet and _perfect_. By the time he’d finished his first piece, Goro’s chest felt light, because he knew what he was going to do now. It was all he could do not to kick Akira out of his apartment right then and there, just so he could get to work.

When it was finally time for Akira to take his leave, he took slightly over half the cake with him, promising it wouldn’t go to waste at Leblanc. As he was about to leave, he turned back to Goro.

“Hey, let me know what happens with that case you’re working on, okay?” he asked. “You’ve got me curious now… I want to see how it ends.”

Goro smiled.

“You don’t need to worry,” he said. “I’ll be sure to keep you posted.”

**Author's Note:**

> To be concluded on Day 8. :3


End file.
